Rock Island daily Argus., 1887-12-24

l started Ion Richmond in July, 1862, a lad
Is years old. a junior in college, and chatting
to be at ito double quick it after John
Brown soul, which, since it did not require
a knapsack, or three days ratioas, or can
teen, or It lp.lt during the night for sleep,
was always marching on. On the night be
fore Christmas, 1852, was detected young
patriot, wishing l hadn't done it, shivering
in the open weather mile back of the Rap
pahannack, ON the reserve picket, and ex-
posed to wet snowstorn There was not O
stick Of wood within five miles of US; all cut
down, even the roots of trees dug up and
burned We lay down on enr rubber blankets,
pulled otT Woolen blankets over US, spooned
it as close as we could get, to steal warmth
from our comrades, ard tried rot to cry.
Next morning the snow lay heavy and
deep, and the men, when l walked and looked
about me, reminded me of church grave
yard In winter The snow covered US all,
and my comrades seemed as If small Gene
teyy-just Ike a graveyard and its mounds
''Fal in for picket dutyi There, come,
Moore, Mc1Ianus, Paxton, Perrine, Pollock;
fall in.n We fell in, of course. No break
fast; chilled to the marrow; snow q foot
deep. We tightened our belts on our empty
stomachs, seized our rifles, and marched to
the river to take our six hours on duty.
It was Christmas Day, 1862. "And SO this
is war" my Old me said to himself, while he
paced III the wet snow his two hours on the
rivers brink And am out here to shoot
that lean lank, coughing, cadaverous look
ing butternut fellow over the river. So this
is war; this is being soldier; this is the genu-
inc article; this is II. Greeleys 'On to Rich
mond' Well wish he were only here in nv
place, running to keep warm; pounding his
arms and breast to make the chilled blood
circulate. SO this is war, tramping up and
down this river my fifty yards with wet feet,
empty stomach swollen nose"
Alas! whea lying under the trees in the col
leSe campus Last June, war meant to me mar
tial music; gorgeo;15 brigadiers in blue and
gold; tall young men III line, shining iii brass.
War meant TO me tumultuous memories Of
Bunker Hi, Casar's Tenth legion, the charge
OF the Six Misunderstanding but this.
Pshaw! l wish | We're home. Let me see.
Home! God'seountry. 4 tear2--yes, it is q
tear. What are they doing at homel This is
Christmas Day, 1862 Home9 Well, stock
ings on the wall, candy, turkey. fun, merry
Christmas, and the face Of the girl left be-
hind Another tearl Yes, | couldn't help it; /;
was only 1S and there was such contrast
between Christmas, 1862, on the Rappahan-
mock, and other Christmases. Yes, there was
a girl, too-such sweet eyes; such long lashes;
such low, tender voicel "Come, move
| quickerl Who goes therer Shift the rifle
| from one aching shoulder to the other
| 'Hello, Johnny, what are you up tor The
| river was narrow, but deep and swift. 1t
| was wet cold, not freezing cold. There
was no ice-too swift for that.
Hello, johnny, what yen coughing SO
| forgn
s'Yank, with 10 overcoat, shoes fun of
holes, nothing TO eat hut parehed corn and
tobacco and with the derned Yankee snow q
foot deep there is nothin left--nothin' but, to
get up a cough by way of protestin against
this internal treatment Of the body, We mls,
Yank, all have a cough over here, and there's
no sayin' which vii run US to hole first, che
cough or your bullets"
The snow still fell; the keen wind, raw and
fierce, cut to the bone Il was Gods worst
weather in Gods forlornest, bleakest spot of
ground, that Christmas day Of '63 on the
Rappahannock, q half mile below the town
Of Fredericksburg But conc, pick up your
PROSTATE pluck, You shiveripg private.
Surely there is enough dampnes around
without adding to it your tears
Lets laugh, boys"
'sEello, JohnnyI'
''Hello yourself, Yanlll"
Merry Christmas, Johnnyl"
i ''Same to you, Yank"
'.Say, Johnny, got anything to trader